


Unanswered

by KeyKnows



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeyKnows/pseuds/KeyKnows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They survived. Tarrlok wonders how and the answer seems to be pretty simple: Not everything his brother said was a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unanswered

**Author's Note:**

> I know,it have been millenniums since book once finished but I love Tarrlok and Noatak and it couldn't be help it. Meh.
> 
> English is not my native language and this is this my first attempt for writing in english, I have translated before, but to write directly in english is a very a different process. I hope that there aren't that much mistakes, but consider this is an un-edited version because is 3 am and I just wanted to post this, but feedback will be truly appreciated and thanked.
> 
> I hope you like it~

 

 

When Tarrlok sees his brother turning on the oven, there is a heavy feeling inside his chest. It’s such a normal thing, something that shouldn’t drag his attention like it does, something that is no to be observe with such concern, something that _definitely_ doesn’t have any hidden meaning.

But there is the feeling, anyway. And there he is, watching as Noatak takes a matchstick from the little box on the table and lights it up. But there is Tarrlok nevertheless, and there is Noatak turning on the oven to cook today’s dinner.

If Noatak finds his scrutiny annoying he doesn’t say it, and even if he does, Tarrlok wouldn’t care. He needs to watch him; he needs to find something in his movements, something in his posture, something, anything that confirms that he is not crazy. Or maybe he needs to confirm that _obviously_ he is crazy.  

It cannot be. It’s impossible, his brother is not a…

“Tarrlok!” Noatak calls him, looking at him with worry “Tarrlok, I was talking to you, are you alright?”

The look on his brother face tells him that probably he was lost for some minutes at least. He sits up in a proper way on the chair he is and he hawks before talking.

“Yes, I’m fine” his answer comes out in an acquiescent tone that reminds him of the time in which he was council of Republic City “What is it?”          

Noatak looks at him for a moment, wondering if it’s okay to ignore Tarrlok lies this time.

He decides it is okay.

“Nothing” Noatak says and turns his attention to the steaming water on the oven “I was just wondering if you would like some tea.”

Something in his voice makes Tarrlok think that, whatever his brother was saying it had nothing to do with tea. But he has better things to think about at this moment so he disregards it.

“No, thanks” is his dry answer.

Then Noatak starts looking here in there in the kitchen for the supplies he needs to cook, glancing at his younger brother now and then. Tarrlok observes him once again, but this time he tries to be more discreet and to remember where he is to don’t get lost in his head.

There is nothing strange in his brother’s ways. His steps, the movement of his hands, the way he holds things, the way he tastes the food to know if it needs more salt. Everything seems so normal, so casual, so ‘not suspicious’. Tarrlok doesn’t know what he is looking for, but he is certainly looking for something, and he is sure that if he looks really hard for it then he will find the answer to the question he is not brave enough to ask.

The first time the question came to his mind was when he woke up after the explosion. He was in the shore of some Earth Kingdom beach, a little village over a hill not far away from there. All he could remember was seeing his brother’s back and then utilizing the equalists glove to blow up the boat, so when he woke up he thought he was probably dead and was in some kind of limbo, or at least he was about to die.

But he did not die. And nothing in his body hurt, he just felt terribly tired and terribly wet and terribly disconcerted.

Noatak was there, kneeled by his side with relieve in his face when he saw Tarrlok woke up.

When Tarrlok saw his brother, he wondered how they survived the explosion. He didn’t ask.

Sometime after that, they established in the little village over the hill. They said that some pirates attacked them when they were on their way to some place, and Noatak said the reason they were able to survive on open sea was because he was a waterbender.

The story made sense for the people of the little village, but Tarrlok knew the true, and even if his brother was such a powerful waterbender, his abilities shouldn’t have been able to save them from that explosion. Something wasn’t right, and the possible answer he found was totally insane.

And so, trying to figure out what happened he watches Noatak, and Noatak allows it.

Tarrlok finds nothing.

 

 

The days pass, weeks go and come and then become months. Their life is quite and nice. It’s not like ‘the good old days’, but it’s pleasant enough and none of them complains. It’s a life they never thought they will have, so they enjoy it as much as they can.

But the doubt remains in Tarrlok’s head: How did they survive? The answer is always the same, he had think about it so much, watching the situation from every angle, remembering every possible waterbending technique that could have save them…the answer is the same, but it doesn’t make sense.

It’s really late when he wakes up in the middle of the night. He puts his shoes, and checks if his brother is on his bed before going out to take some air and forget about the crazy thoughts that torment him.

Their little house is very high on the hill, it was the only place available when they came and they didn’t ask for anything more. The moon is full this night; he cannot feel the power of its glow how he felt it before, but its silver light is still really consoling and he bathes with it.

He breaths in and out, very loudly, feeling the saline smell of the ocean. The beach is not far away, so he decides to take a walk.

The sand is smooth and gentle under his feet, the waves hit the shore gently too. He walks at the shore and doesn’t care when the water reaches his feet. The cold is familiar and welcome.

He can’t control the water anymore, but it’s part of him anyway and it makes him feel calm. He looks at the dark waves hitting the shore, wetting his feet; he looks at it, at the ocean, at La. Then he looks and the moon, at his glow, at Tui.

He looks at the spirits and asks them: How did we survive? The answer it’s the impassible light of the moon and the rhythmic sound of the waves.

The answer comes for the only one who can answer.

“Tarrlok.”

Noatak’s voice sounds tired behind him. Tarrlok turns and faces his brother.

There is a moment of silence that seems eternal. Maybe it is. Maybe Tui and La stop the time so they could take as much time as they need.

“What happened?” Tarrlok says at last, not moving from his place in the sand “How is that we are alive?”

Noatak sighs. He makes a gesture to indicate him to come closer, but Tarrlok doesn’t do it.

There is another time of silence, shorter than before but heavier.

“Not everything I said was a lie”

Noatak says it in a very solemn way; as it will do everything make sense. But Tarrlok needs more that some solemn words.

“How come?” he doesn’t want to sound as skeptical as he does, but he doesn’t make a try to change it.

Noatak asks him to move closer again, and the way his hand moves in the air makes him look like he is begging for Tarrlok to come.

Tarrlok is not touch by this. He doesn’t move and asks again. Noatak looks resigned now and opens his mouth to say:

“I told the no-benders that my family was killed by a firebender” he begins, “and that I was scarred by him.”

“So?”

“That was a lie.”

Not a surprise, certainly. But the next words that come out of Noatak, oh, how surprising they are.

“I also told them that the spirits gave me the power to take people bending” Noatak pauses as waiting for Tarrlok to understand it and stop him. He does not. “That wasn’t a lie.”

When Tarrlok opens his mouth to call him a liar, a wave bigger that the others hits the shore and hits his back. It does it once, it does it twice.

“Don’t lie to me.”

It does it thrice, with such power he is send to ground and some sand enter to his mouth.

Suddenly the ocean sounds furious, and the wind rises in anger. ‘Don’t call your brother a liar’ it seems to say. La seems to say. Tui remains still.

Tarrlok doesn’t feel brave enough to look at the ocean behind him. He stands up; his brother doesn’t help him because he seems _scare_ too. Scare of the water behind Tarrlok.

This time, when Noatak asks him to come closer he does, and he doesn’t look back.

They stay silent waiting for the ocean and the wind to calm down, but they don’t.

“Would you like to explain me?” Tarrlok says when he realizes the waves and the wind will not stop.

Noatak nods.

“Let’s go back home.”

 _Home_.

 

 

The sound of the wind doesn’t go away when they close the house’s door. Tarrlok closes the windows too while Noatak looks blindly for the switch to turn on the light. When the lights are on, the little living room looks awfully quite. Noatak sits in one of the old and dusty couches they bought to some old lady in the village, Tarrlok sits in the other one and they face each other silently.

Noatak seems lost in his mind, but this time Tarrlok thinks is better to be patience; the sound of the wind that is slowly becoming in the sound of rain, makes him feel really patience.

His older brother is looking at his hands. He’s looking at them and rubbing them against each other. Tarrlok looks at them too, wondering if his conjectures were correct and his brother is now thinking about doing a demonstration.

Suddenly Noatak stands up and starts walking across the room with his hands behind his back. Tarrlok watches him walk.

“It was not a lie.”

Noatak’s words are heavy. His voice is slurred, his throat is probably dry. His pose is tense and everything in him says ‘I don’t want to talk about this’. But they have to talk, they must talk because they survived at something impossible to survive.

They survive at something that Tarrlok expected would kill them both, but it didn’t, and he doesn’t like how it feels. When he exploded the boat he was not expecting to deal with the regret. He had tried to kill his brother, and dying with that in mind was one thing, but surviving and having to live with it…he just can’t. So there must be a good reason for them to survive, and if Noatak is the one who made them able to live, then he should know that reason.

Or Tarrlok hopes so.

“Are you saying” Tarrlok says, slowly “are you saying the spirits did give you that power?”

“Yes.”

Tarrlok looks at his brother. He wants to say him that he doesn’t believe him, that he must be lying because what reason would have the spirits to give him that ability, an ability that was for the Avatar and the Avatar only.

But he remembers the ocean, and the moon, and the wind and the rain outside.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t the only thing they gave you.”

“No, it was not”

Tarrlok sighs and covers his face with his hands.

“How did we survive?” the question comes out like a low howl, comes out like ‘Please don’t answer’, like ‘Please, let it be something else’.

“You know how” Noatak looks at him with a penetrating gaze “don’t you?”

Tarrlok puts his hands down. He looks so tired and frustrated.

“I want to hear it for you.”

It’s Noatak’s turn to feel irritated, but Tarrlok need to hear it, needs to know the truth from his lips.

“I am…” Noatak seems like he is having a battle inside him. Like he wants to say it but he doesn’t want to say it. He gives his back to Tarrlok and finishes his sentence without looking at him “I am a firebender.”

Something crumbles inside them. There is lightning and thunder outside. Tarrlok covers his face once more. Noatak stays still.

“Are you an earthbender too?”

“Yes”

“An airbender?”

“Yes”

Tarrloks sighs deeply between his hands.

“Why did they give you all that?”

There is claim in Tarrlok’s voice, because why, why on earth would the spirits give him that? He is not the right one to judge, he knows it, but still. It’s not like Noatak was exactly putting in good use those powers, and…and maybe he is lying him.

It’s a possibility and Tarrlok doesn’t feel ashamed for considering it.

“I want proof” Tarrlok says and puts his hands down, on his knees.

A wave of regret fills him when he sees the look on Noatak’s face. He looks so dismayed, like he wasn’t expecting this kind of disbelieve.

Even if Noatak looks betrayed (and Tarrlok thinks he doesn’t have the right to), he move one of his hands and red fire enfold it. He looks at his younger brother with a flame dancing over his palm. He makes it disappear quickly and turns aside his gaze.

“Why?” Tarrlok asks again, his voice trembling lightly “Why would they give you this?”

“I asked them” Noatak’s voice is so heavy now, so lost and so far away “They didn’t answer.”

“And you thought taking people’s bending away was a good way to use it?” his voice is demanding.

“It was for a good reason” Noatak turns to him and looks at him with anger “Republic City is full of discrimination; I was just trying to make it better for everyone.”

“You lied to the people you claimed to protect and hurt innocent citizens!” Tarrlok cannot believe his brother is serious about this. He can’t be serious about his ‘the end justifies the means’ politics.

“It was necessary. I needed to lie to them so they would believe me. If I had told them I was a bloodbender then they wouldn’t follow me. I was just…!”

“You lied to them!” for some reason that Tarrlok doesn’t understand at all, that makes him very angry “You played with their beliefs and hided behind a mask!”

“It was necessary!” Noatak screams at him, looking him heated “I needed the mask for them to believe me! They needed Amon to guide them!”

“Amon was just you playing with the opportunity the spirits gave you!”

“Amon was a symbol!” his voice rises.

Tarrlok thinks he is probably messing with forbidden territory because his brother hasn’t talk to him like that since they started living here. He doesn’t even blame him about the explosion.

But now, he starts talking about the true of his acts, calling him out about how wrong he was and he receives this. Tarrlok receives his anger and his frustration.

“A symbol of what?” his brother being mad ay him doesn’t stop him “You were doing exactly what you said to opposed. You were abusing your power as a bender in order to deceive people into following you”

“I was NOT” Noatak takes a step in his direction and Tarrlok gets up, defiant “I was using this…this power to change the city, I was using it to make it better for everyone, I was doing nothing but showing the world the true about the bending they hold so dearly. Every war, every conflict between people and nations have been born because of bending, and who are the ones suffering its consequences? Who are the ones that must clean the mess left behind? No-benders. I was…”

Tarrlok denies with his head, he moves it violently from a side to the other. He doesn’t want to hear the miserable story Noatak told to all his followers, he doesn’t want to be treat like all the people he deceived, like the masses that got delighted by his eloquent words.

“And why would you care?!” Tarrlok rises his voice interrupting the non-ending speech of his brother. “You may be right about how evil bending is, maybe the world needs a change but why would you care enough to do such a thing?”

Noatak looks like he was just slapped. Taken back with a look of surprise that slowly becomes one of indignation, so truly offend by what Tarrlok just said.

“Why I wouldn’t?” he spites the words, like he is not supposed to say them in first place, like they burn his tongue with his bitterness “Why I wouldn’t when bending has bring nothing but disgrace to me, to us?”

And Tarrlok doesn’t understand at all, but he understands a little. He cannot know what complicated abstraction process took his brother to that conclusion, that he would somehow redeem his wretched childhood becoming a justice fighter, a defender of the helpless, a symbol of equality and peace.

He can see at least why if not how.

The look of anger on his brother face, he sees it now more like a gesture of restraint, like he’s holding back bitter tears of unhealed wounds.

He never saw him cry as children, he recalls. He doesn’t want to see it now.

“Taking innocent people’s bending away seems like the most accurate answer, doesn’t it?” Tarrlok says, his body still, his head tall, his face blank.

It’s a reproach faked as a sarcastic remark. By the sudden shadow on Noatak’s eyes he can tell the message was received.

“It was what I thought to be correct.”

“Don’t you think it is anymore?”

“I think I have my whole life ahead to figure it out.”

Tarrlok smirks.

They have it, don’t they?

 

   

The next day Tarrlok is sited at the shore. The waves, now peaceful and soothing, touching his feet and wetting his pants. He’s looking at the horizon, at the fine line that divides ocean from sky and that show’s itself hypnotic and reachable. Tarrlok knows it is not.

The sound of the waves crashing at the shore and the saline water take him back to the North Pole. He doesn’t think of himself as melancholic, there are so many things he wishes to forget like to yearn for the past, but at this very moment he gives himself the opportunity to recall less complicated days.

There are so many things he still wants to ask his brother about; so many answers that Noatak doesn’t want to give; so many inquires that are probably best unanswered.   

So he remembers the cold but comfortable snow that melted in his hands and sunk under his feet. He remembers the sharp breeze and the fishy smell.  

He remembers what he was taught about the spirits and then thinks of Noatak and his cloud of incognitos.

When he less expects it, there is another body sited beside him. His brother doesn’t look at him, he watches the ocean and stays tense, like he’s waiting for some kind of attack.

Tarrlok couldn’t hurt him, physically, even if he wanted.

“I can’t give it back.” Noatak says suddenly.

There is no need to specify. Tarrlok suspected it anyway, it’s not a surprise. It hurts anyway, his heart sinks further in the void of sorrow that he has been carrying way to long.

“I want to learn” Noatak starts to say, looking at the horizon that they will never reach because it’s not really there “I want to learn a way to use _this_ to help the people in this world. I want to make it better. I want to be better.”

Tarrlok thinks he’s supposed to be impressed or touched by his words. He is not. Not even a bit.

“I want…”

“You want so many things.” Tarrlok cuts his wordiness. Noatak waits for him to continue speaking and when he doesn’t, Noatak sighs.

“I want to be better.”

Tarrlok feels like saying he doesn’t want to, he _needs_ to. But he shut his mouth thing because he’s not really the best to say it.  

He wonders what is Noatak going to do, doing what he can do, holding the ideals he holds. He wonders if his brother is going to left him, even now, when he has taken all from him in order of greater good. He wonders if he will ask from his help, if he is going to take him into the never-ending journey of justice.

He wonders how much his brother really wants to be better.

He wonders what he would do.

He wonders.

Tarrlok looks at the ocean and he can almost see the boat in which they ran away, surfing away into the horizon. He can almost see his brother’s little smile, he can almost see himself giving up.

He can almost see the fire staining the blue of the sky with red and orange.

He can almost taste death, and the delicious blackness of unconsciousness. He can see his shattered body sinking into the ocean, he can see his brother’s.

Instead he has this. This horizon that he will never reach, this brother bathed in sacred miracles and fair motives. This shore and this emptiness in his chest.

He _has_ this. And for the look of the things he _will_ have.

He has this and he wonders.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> What the hell was that? We'll never know.
> 
> Probably this idea is worth a lot more of exploration and so, but I'm not really into writing long-fics so this is probably staying like that, open finals ftw.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writting it.
> 
> Every comment is appreciated. Thanks for reading.


End file.
